


When She Crooks Her Finger

by Lillielle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Rough Oral Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Whipping, dark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: I own nothing.</p>
<p>Hermione is Bellatrix's play-thing, and she knows it.</p>
<p>In fact, it's all she's ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When She Crooks Her Finger

"Position!" Mistress snaps, and I scramble with alacrity, my sweat-slicked skin sliding across the thin carpet. Knees spread, wrists in the small of my back, head up, breasts thrust forward. It's hard for me to hold for long periods, but that doesn't matter. If I slip, Mistress will punish me (and is it wrong that sometimes I long for it?)

"Good," her voice washes over me, and I barely suppress my shudder. "You've been such a good pet for me lately, haven't you, Mudblood? So wet, so needy. So  _obedient._ " She leans down and the tip of her wand flicks my clit. I bite my lip hard, nearly bringing blood to the surface.

"In this room, for this time, you are allowed to make noise, Mudblood," she continues, grinding her wand into my sensitive flesh as hard as she can. "You are allowed to speak, to whimper, to  _moan_. The only thing you are not allowed to do--and I'm sure you won't manage this, you filthy little slut--is  _move._ "

"Thank you, Mistress," I gasp out as she rotates her wand, just a bit. The pressure is electrifying, more than I can take, so soon in the game.

"Your little friends miss you," she muses, circling back around. I hear the clink of various objects, tangling together as she sorts through them. "The little ginger one tried breaking in here this morning. My Lord's got him now, in a cell. For Greyback when he comes back." A laugh bubbles up from her throat. I should feel horrified, I should leap up and find him. Poor Ron. 

I remain in position and say nothing. There is nothing to say, anyway.

"Here's hoping little Potty follows in his friend's footsteps," Bellatrix cackles, turning back to me. A whistling through the air and thin strips of fire welt across my back. I scream, high-pitched and breathy, as I fight to keep still. It's hard, so hard, and the casual nudge of her foot against my heels does not make it any easier.

"Good Mudblood," Bellatrix breathes as she rains blows across my back, the tips of her makeshift whip licking across my shoulders, snapping at my chest. She doesn't care if she damages me, and I can't find it in myself to care, either. Not when she makes me feel so  _good._

It wasn't like that in the beginning. It wasn't like that when she abducted me from Diagon Alley, her hand clasped over my mouth and her other arm crushing me against her robes. I fought then. I didn't understand. Not even when the Cruciatus Curse crashed over me, lashing at my nerve endings with a thousand tiny prongs of sheer pain, and I sagged to the floor, screaming until my throat bled. She let me scream it out, watched me dispassionately with those burning, dark eyes. Then her wand came up, and green light poured out, and instead of being dead, I was  _hers._

I'm hers, and nothing has ever pleased me more.

Her face is before me suddenly, her lips capturing mine, crushing them back against my teeth. I whimper against her mouth as she bites into my bottom lip, tugging it out until I can taste the faintest traces of blood.

"You're mine, Mudblood," she hisses. Her eyes burn into mine, and I stare back helplessly, mesmerised by the tiny pinpoints of green I can see, spiralling through her irises.

"Yes, Mistress," I whisper and she rocks back from me, using her hands now, slapping across my tits as hard as she can, pinching my nipples until they purple. This is how she trained me in the beginning, when the only way I could maintain the position was by ropes and ties and spells. When her whip caused only pain, when I still felt defiance spark in my mind. Now there is nothing, I am empty, a chalice waiting to be filled with my Mistress's will.  _Broken_ , and the thought makes my desire peak higher.

"What do you want, Mudblood?" Bellatrix asks, tilting her head to one side, her wand sliding across my damp skin again, gathering droplets of sweat against the tip.

"You, Mistress," I beg, my voice nearing a whine. "Please..."

Her head lowers and her tongue slides across my clit, followed by her teeth. I nearly buck against her ministrations, stopping my hips just in time as her hands curl around my thighs and she buries her face in my pussy, her tongue spearing into me. It is glorious, and I can't stop moaning, not even when her teeth close down on my clit, pulling it out of its hood. I am exposed and vulnerable and I have never been so ready to come in my life.

" _Please,_ Mistress," I pant. She stops, lifting her head. Her cheeks and chin are shiny with my fluids, and even though I'm embarrassed, it turns me on even more.

"Well, Mudblood," she says, sitting back on her knees, her wand coming up, clasped tightly between her fingers. "You've been a good little slut, haven't you? What a surprise. Good pets deserve their rewards, don't they? When I do this, you will come, do you understand, Mudblood? Harder than you ever have before." _  
_

"Yes, Mistress!" I gasp out. The tip of her wand grinds into my clit again, against my pubic bone. She grins, and it looks feral.

" _Crucio!_ " she incants, and the pain is  _everything_ , it is all-consuming, and she holds me in place with her other hand, as molten agony splinters through my nerves, as tears spurt from my eyes, as I bite my lip until my chin is painted with blood...

" _Come you little slut,_ " she hisses, her focus never wavering, the spell unending. If there is one thing my Mistress is good at, it is the Cruciatus Curse. With the last infinitesimal prod of the wood against my flesh, I come,  _hard_ , pleasure and pain mixing in the longest mind-fuck I have ever experienced, until I am left empty-eyed and shuddering on the floor, my fluids pooling beneath me and her hands icy against my skin.

"Good girl," she says, almost tenderly, as she helps me up, my muscles protesting at their earlier treatment. My body spasms, an after-effect of the Cruciatus, and she lifts me up in her arms, cradling me against her robes.

"Let's go see your little friend in the dungeons, shall we?" Bellatrix giggles, and despite the sight I must look, completely naked, bruised, bloodied, and well-fucked, I nod, cracked lips twisting into a smile.

_Mine_ echoes through my head and as she carries me through the dim-lit halls, my eyes spiral with green.

 


End file.
